Be Italian
by Juliana Eschette
Summary: Collection of one-shot smutty goodness of our tomato lovers. On-going project.
1. Chapter 1

Be Italian

Spain never really got jealous. No. He was always so carefree and he was always laughing. Nobody would have thought that he had the slightest capability of feeling envious. Green-eyed he was indeed, but only in a literal sense… unless it concerned Romano. The moment his dear little South Italy was dragged into the scenario, the sweet Spaniard was anything but.

Instead, he focussed on his lover. He was so slender, and perfectly moulded into the fine young thing that he was. His lips were delectable, and his eyes were like gems, and his pout. _Ah_. It was that seemingly permanent frown on his face that always seemed to get Spain. When he was around the ladies, however, Romano was nearly always all smiles. Spain supposed that was the one good thing about having his lover's attention stolen away. At least he got to see that smile more often when women were around him.

The tanned, brown haired Spaniard clenched his fist. How infuriating. Surely Romano wasn't doing this on purpose. His little Lovino was just too handsome for his own good. His Italian ways had practically every single girl within a mile's radius fawning over him. God, Spain hated that. He hated the way they swooned over him, the way they gently placed their hands on his arms, the way that they looked at him… Spain wanted to tell them to back the hell off, but that would not have been cool.

"_Ehi, bastardo,_" snapped Romano as they walked through the streets back from the meeting. They made it to their apartment block right before the rain began to pour. Their apartment was located on the ground floor, which offered Spain the ability to walk briskly to the door and open it.

"_Perché cazzo sei così silenzioso_? _E non ti si addice–_"

Spain grabbed Romano by the wrist, dragged him into the apartment, and practically slammed the door shut. The elder nation pressed his weight onto the smaller country, pinning him against the back of the door. Their lips met, hearts racing, as Spain forced his tongue forward into the Italian's mouth. He could tell Romano was flushing. He could feel the heat from his face on his own skin. Spain's hands explored the contours of Romano's shoulders. They eventually found themselves sliding down to the younger lover's chest, then to his sides, and then down his back until they settled rather comfortably on Romano's ass. He had always had such a nice ass.

"_Bastardo. Che cazzo ti credi di far–?_" breathed Romano as their lips finally separated.

"_Eres mío, ¿entiendes?_" said Spain darkly. He stared straight into Romano's eyes, not a trace of a joke within his own.

"_Non scherzare con me, stronzo,_" frowned Romano, trying to push the Spaniard off of him. Spain forcefully pinned Romano's hands above his head with a single hand, taking hold of the Italian's chin with the other.

"_No dejes que te toquen de esa manera. __Tú eres todo mío,_" warned Spain.

The hand that he had on Romano's chin quickly found its way to South Italy's belt, which was undone within a matter of seconds. Next was the button and then zipper of his loose jeans, which sat nicely along his hipline. Romano moaned as the heat rose in his stomach. Spain could be dead sexy when he wanted to be.

Let it just be said that they never made it to the bedroom.

While Romano was busy taking off Spain's shirt, Spain was busy with Romano's pants. Clothes were lost and forgotten on the floor in a trail that led down the small hall into the kitchen area. It was difficult, though. What was all of Spain's quick kisses, and groping, and his heavy breathing. He smelled like rare spices, Romano decided. And he loved it.

"_Spagna_," groaned Romano. Spain smiled. He liked to hear his name on the little Italian's lips. It was the only name he wanted him to ever call out like this.

They were on the floor, tangled in each other. Fingers were laced together, legs were practically in knots, and their mouths never really seemed to separate for more than a second. Spain could hear Romano's heart in his chest as he slowly kissed down his jaw line, down his neck, and then to his collar bone. His skin was smooth and sweet. Oh, how he loved his Italian. His beautiful little Italian.

"_Spagna, per favore_," pleaded Romano. "_Per favore, ti volgio._"

"_Paciencia_," whispered Spain softly against hot skin. "_Este es un castigo por lo que me preocupa._"

"_Punizione?_" gasped the little Italian breathlessly. "_Per favore, no._"

Spain made his way down to Romano's half-hard member. He was so damn irresistible when he was exposed like this. Spain loved it. He ate it up, his eyes scanning every detail of the Italian beneath him.

Gently, he pressed his lips the Italian's length. He received a lustful groan for his efforts. He wanted more. He wanted to hear that voice. He wanted to hear Romano beg for him, plead for him, scream for him. Romano was red-faced and enjoy every delicate touch that Spain placed upon him.

"_Ah_," he gasped as warmth enveloped his shaft. "_Oh, Antonio.._." Yes. That did it. Hearing his name made Spain want this even more than before. Romano groaned and squirmed, struggling to adjust to the fantastic sensations that ran along through his body and Spain sucked."_Oh… Ah…_"

And then Spain stopped. Just to be deliciously cruel.

"_No, bastardo…_" whined Romano.

"_Lo siento. No puedo esperar._"

With a moist hand, Antonio entered a single finger, followed by a second. Romano grunted, the pain lasting only for a moment before he was engulfed in an intense sense of satisfaction. Oh, the noises he would make if he didn't care for his pride. Spain smirked as he flexed his fingers. It was warm and wet and ready. Spain kissed tender skin wherever he could find, sucking so hard that marks were left behind. Romano was his, and his alone.

"_¿Listo, mi cariño?_" asked the Spaniard. Romano, too engaged with the battling conflict of pain and pure pleasure, simply nodded.

Spain aligned himself. The warmth of Romano's heated body gave his own limbs comfort. He entered quickly, not wishing to hurt his lover more than necessary. Romano grunted and whined, but soon forgot his discomfort as Spain began thrusting into him.

"_Ah!_" moaned Romano. He reached out to grab his dear Spain, but found his arms pinned down once again by the man on top of him.

The thrusts began slowly, in a rhythm a little too painfully slow for Romano's liking, but it wasn't up to him. No matter how much his bucked his hips, trying to urge Spain on, Spain refused to meet Romano's request. This was his punishment after all. There was nobody else in the world that would treat him such a way, and Spain wanted Romano to remember that above all else. He wanted him to remember that, even if he said he hated it, Spain would always be there. On top of that, he would be the best lover he will have ever had.

"_Oh, Antonio, per favore!_" cried Romano. Spain loved this. He loved the sound of Romano's voice. He loved the way he felt surrounding him. He loved _him_.

He couldn't take it anymore. Slow thrusts then began to come faster and faster. Skin rubbed against skin, sweat dripping from the both of them in salty wanton for more. Romano groaned and hissed and implored for more. He called out Spain's name over and over and over again until it started to sound like worship. Romano could have forgotten the world. It was just him, and Spain, and the night.

"_Antonio, Antonio,_" gasped Romano. He was almost there, he could feel it.

"_Romano,_" breathed Spain, unable to control himself. There was a pit of luscious hunger growing in his stomach. He wanted this. He wanted him. And he wanted it now.

"_Ah!_" exclaimed the Italian as Spain rammed into the same place over and over again. Spain knew this was Romano's weak point. It was the point that made him want to give in, and then come back for more. They were both already at their limits.

With a few more strong thrusts, Romano came undone, Spain not too far behind. He watched as Romano's muscles contracted in absolute delight. He bucked his hips forward, riding out his orgasm. He was breathless, just as was the Spaniard, who leant down to kiss him on the lips. "_¿A quién pertenece?_" he asked, placing a delicate kiss on Romano's brown.

"_Te. Sempre_," was the soft reply.

* * *

Translations:

"_Ehi, bastardo," - _Hey, bastard.

"_Perché cazzo sei così silenzioso_? _E non ti si addice–_" - Why the fuck are you so quiet? It doesn't suit you-

"_Bastardo. Che cazzo ti credi di far–?_" - Bastard. What do you think you're doing-

"_Eres mío, ¿entiendes?_" - You're mine, do you understand?

"_Non scherzare con me, stronzo,_" - Don't fuck (joke) with me, asshole.

"_No dejes que te toquen de esa manera. __Tú eres todo mío,_" - Do not let them touch you that way. You're all mine.

"_Spagna_," - Spain.

"_Spagna, per favore_," - Spain, please.

"_Per favore, ti volgio._" - Please, I need you.

"_Paciencia_," - Patience.

"_Este es un castigo por lo que me preocupa._" - This is punishment for making me worry.

"_Punizione?_" - Punishment?

"_Lo siento. No puedo esperar._" - Sorry. I can't wait.

"_¿Listo, mi cariño? - _Ready, my dear?

"_¿A quién pertenece?_" - Who do you belong to?

"_Te. Sempre_," - You. Always.


	2. Chapter 2

Just After Noon

"Romano! I'm home!" exclaimed Spain from the doorway. He struggled to close the door behind him, as both his arms were occupied by the two bags of groceries he carried close to his chest. He kicked the door closed with the heel of his boot, all the while juggling the weight of the fresh ingredients.

"It's about time, _bastardo_," muttered the Italian in the kitchen. "I'm fucking starving."

Spain placed the bags down on the kitchen countertop. He slipped off his coat and hung it neatly over the back of one of the barstools to his left. He couldn't help but smile when he noticed Romano wearing his apron. It was to be expected, of course. No Italian in his right mind would prepare lunch without protecting his Armani shirt from splatters. Although one had to wonder why an Italian would ever wear such a thing in the first place….

"Gilbert called while you were out," mentioned Romano as he sifted through the groceries.

"Oh?"

"He wants to know if you're up for drinks tomorrow."

Spain leaned against the counter. "What day is tomorrow again?" he asked innocently.

"Saturday," stated Romano bluntly.

With some thought, he finally said, "What a shame. I'll be busy. I'll have to call back to decline."

Romano frowned, vexed that Spain hadn't told him anything. Their schedules were tight as they were, what with all the world meetings. "Busy? Busy with what?" he snapped.

Spain grinned, leaning across the countertop surface. He placed a quick kiss on Romano's lips, leaving the Italian stunned for a moment. "With you," was his explanation smugly. Romano rolled his eyes, but was unable to hide his own smirk.

"You're such a sly bastard, you know that?"

"I try," shrugged Spain with a chuckle.

While Romano prepared the ingredients, Spain was busy folding the laundry in the living room. The television was on, but its volume was set to low. If he listened very carefully, he would be able to hear Romano humming some catchy tune as he cooked. It wasn't often, but he relished it. Romano wasn't one to be caught dead singing. He had to be threatened into it, or seriously drunk to get notes out of him.

Warm scents began wafting out of the kitchen on the breath of a humid summer breeze. Spain's stomach growled with impatience. He had finished with the laundry and was now watching a football match on the screen.

"_¡Tengo hambre!_" he whined languidly. Spain felt like he was melting in the afternoon heat wave.

"Oh, shut up, _bastardo_. It's already in the oven," Romano shouted back.

Spain got up from the couch and leaned against the doorframe leading to the large kitchen. It was spacious and full of cabinets that contained herbs and spices of all kinds. Romano was at the sink, rinsing out used bowls he had used earlier for mixing ingredients. He was still humming. A grin found its place on the Spaniard's face. Sometimes Romano was just too cute.

"Hey…" he started off slowly, the word rolling off his tongue. Romano turned to catch his eye, but continued his work at the sink.

"What?" the Italian sighed gently.

"I love you."

Romano stopped completely, sighed again, and turned to lean against the sink counter. He raised an eyebrow, studying Spain with pouted lips in thought. "Alright…" he exhaled slowly. "What do you want?" Spain stood up straight and walked over. He placed his hands on either side of Romano's hips, bringing their bodies close. His nose brushed against Romano's cheek, allowing him to pick up his faint scent.

"I love you, Romano."

"I heard you the first time," muttered the Italian country's personification. Spain was too up-close to notice how red Romano's face had become, but he could feel the heat and almost hear his rapid heartbeat.

Spain placed a gentle kiss on Romano's left and then right cheek, then his forehead, over his eyes, his chin, and then his nose. Romano muttered something under his breath, but was too flustered to get an actual word out.

"_¿Que?_" inquired Spain, beginning to untie Romano's apron.

"If you were horny, all you had to do was tell me, you idiot."

Spain chuckled, tugging the apron off and discarding it onto the floor. He kissed Romano's neck vigorously, inhaling his aftershave. They kissed feverishly as Spain busied himself with the task of unbuttoning Romano's shirt. Romano's own hands were lost in Spain's brown curls, tugging at what he could to entice more exuberant action.

Spain lifted Romano onto the counter, practically ripping away his pants. Romano's shirt was next on the floor until there was nothing but his boxers remaining. He was already hot and swollen, hungry for attention which he would easily obtain. Romano wrapped his arms around Spain's neck, bringing him nice and close. Their lips were warm and wet with their heated breath; soft and rough at the same time as they brushed together.

"Can you…?" whispered Romano, eyes closed. Spain didn't need to hear the end of the sentence. He pulled off his grey t-shirt, and practically threw the offending material to the floor. Romano could feel Spain's fervor at the tip of his fingertips as he traced patterns across the Spaniard's chest. Faint scars could still be seen from wars past, but they hardly mattered. Hell, they were even sexy. Spain lifted the Italian, carrying him to the bedroom, all the while darting his tongue across Romano's palate.

Spain lowered Romano slowly, rolling his hips against him as they both made contact with the mattress. Romano let out a groan, his face red with anticipation. "Spain," he gasped between kisses. Spain lowered himself slightly, finding his way to a needy nipple. His tongue teased and his mouth sucked. Romano's breath hitched. His mind was unable to register the delight and pleasure in completion.

"_Spagne_," the Italian whined, "S_pagne, per favore_."

Spain grinned against Romano's bare chest. "Who's horny now?" he challenged. A pillow in the face was his reward.

"Shut up, fucking bastard," muttered Romano with a slight edge of humour.

"I'm just saying," he said with a shrug. Spain removed Romano's boxers, kissing at the tender skin on the inside of his thighs. There was nothing more fulfilling to know how badly they wanted each other and Romano's exposed member only added to that satisfaction.

"Hurry up, asshole. The pasta's going to burn."

"_Si, __si… Yo comprendo__._"

Once his own boxers were removed, Spain took only a moment to take in the sight. Romano was so cute he could die. The Italian was blushing from ear to ear, chest heaving up and down for air. Spain took no time at all to align himself and gently push in. They had made love just the day before, so preparation hardly seemed needed, especially not now. They were too hot to wait any longer.

"Nng…" gasped Romano, eyes shut. He could feel Spain throbbing for him.

"You ok?"

"Yes… Just do it, idiot."

Spain placed a kiss on Romano's lips as he rolled forward again, pushing deeper into the warmth that surrounded his length. He sighed against Romano's face, relieved and excited by the pressure. He drew back, almost to the point where he removed himself, and then shoved right back in. "Ah!" groaned Romano, clinging to Spain's back. Spain thrust in and out, developing a rhythm all too delicious to stop. The delirium overtook the two, their heads swirling with ecstasy.

"F-fuck! Spain~! _Oh~! __Si__!_"

"Romano…" groaned Spain against the Italian's ear. "Romano~"

Romano stroked the sides of Spain's face, noticing traces of his stubble. Those beautiful green eyes like emeralds distracted him, but only for a moment. He felt warm inside, almost bordering on boiling. Those eyes, which watched him with such attention and dedication, were all he needed to know and feel secure.

"_Ti amo_," he mumbled through the dizziness that was his climax.

The clock on the oven back in the kitchen read just after noon.

* * *

A/N:

*Pokes head out of darkened corner...*

Hi everyone. I felt so guilty about not updating for the past two months, so I figured I should hurry and give you the gift of smut. I haven't been feeling well, and my computer crapped out on me, so I had to deal with all the mayhem. I really do hope you enjoy it! Please remember to leave a review. They make me happy. 3

Lots of love,

K


End file.
